


Who Killed Moto Moto

by alchemyfeline, Sunny_Flowers



Category: Madagascar (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Minecraft (Video Game), Scooby Doo - All Media Types, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bullying, Coming of Age, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Meme, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, and the chapters are longer than either of us normally write, ironic, we’re spending our time writing this instead serious fanfiction or original works
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemyfeline/pseuds/alchemyfeline, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunny_Flowers/pseuds/Sunny_Flowers
Summary: This is really hot, trust me
Relationships: Chungus/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter One

You gaze into the mirror. Your long, flowing tortilla brown hair topples over your shoulders majestically like a unicorn. 

“Ugh,” You say with a frustrated sigh, “I’m so ugly. Gawd, I’ll just put it up in a bun.” Gathering your luxurious hair together, you throw it up in a messy bun, not caring about how you look.

You stare into the mirror. Now that your hair is pulled away from your face, you can see it clearly. You have perfect, clear skin that almost glimmers but it doesn’t because it’s skin and also you’re not in the sun. 

A pair of violet orbs stared back at you, sparkling, admirable, and physically impossible. They match your flowing tank top perfectly and go well with your short shorts (somehow). Your perfectly plucked brows look great as usual, and so do your long eyelashes as you bat them coquettishly. Your lips are full and soft. “Ugh, nothing will fix my face! I’m soooooo ugly. I won’t even bother putting on the millions of make-up products my evil father bought for me. After all, how could anyone ever love me? I’ll never get to hear ‘I love you and your beautiful face, Reader. because I don’t have a beautiful face and beauty is all that matters, obviously.”

You pout and tramp down the stairs, frowning beautifully. “Hello darling!” Your obviously evil, abusive father says, his smile faltering as you enter the kitchen. “I made your favorite blueberry pancakes for breakfast! And I even bought you that expensive vegan smoothie brand you like. First day of the rest of your life, haha!” He offers a weak smile, holding a plate of perfectly cooked pancakes.

“Nice try, Fred,” you spit. “I’m not falling for your evil scheme of poisoning me!” 

“But I’m not— my name is Steve— darling, wait! I still have to drive you to school!” He calls as you grab your Gucci purse and your tiny backpack and stomp out of the house, your eight inch heels clicking behind you. 

You sigh. “Of course my father makes me walk to school in this pouring rain!” You scream to the heavens. “God, why do you hate me so?”

You stare up at the clear blue sky and consciously stomp your foot in a puddle. “Ugh, now my shoes are wet! Whatever, I have to get to school.”

You walk the long distance (a whole five blocks!!) between your house and the school, raving under your breath about your abusive father the whole way there.

You enter the school and the bell rings immediately, as if sensing your presence. You gasp, horrified. “I’m late for class, oh no!” You shriek. The other kids in the hall turn to look at you.

“...That was just signaling the start of passing period… Are you a freshman? Need some help?” A girl offers. She’s wearing a knee-length skirt and a sweater. She has short blonde hair and is wearing glasses, and she’s smiling at you gently.

You glare at her. She has a skirt on and she has blonde hair, so she’s obviously the head cheerleader. Which means that she’s the Queen Bee of the popular girls, and a total bitch. “Nice try! I’m not falling for your tricks, evil queen!” You race off to your class, despite having no idea where it is.

You walk into a classroom, your gaze trailing across the room to get an idea of who your classmates are. You see your best friend, Thanos, sitting at a desk nearby and greet him with a casual “What’s up?” before walking towards the back of the room and finding your seat. After you lean your backpack up against the side of the desk, you notice someone sitting a few seats away from you.  
You stifle a gasp. He’s beautiful, you think to yourself. His gray and white fur almost seemed to reflect the sunlight filtering through the window, making it appear to have a golden tint to it. His brilliant black orbs are gazing down at a textbook as he does his homework, even though this is the first day of school and logically there shouldn’t be any homework, but that’s not important.  
He suddenly looks up and over at you with a smile. You feel your heart leap and you immediately look away, cheeks heating up in a blush. You didn’t even know his name, but you were already madly in love with this man— er, teenager? Let’s go with man.

The teacher coughed loudly, and everyone turned to look at the board. “Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh.” He points at the board, which says “Mr. Undertale” in a very unprofessional-looking font. You guess that he’s just introducing himself, but you’re still very confused, and so is the rest of the class. He pauses for a moment, then a box of text appears above his head that says ‘Hello class, my name is Sans Undertale, but you can call me Sans.’ 

There’s another pause, before a different text box appears that says, ‘Go get your science textbooks from your lockers. Biology starts in three minutes.’ You and the rest of the class stand up from their seats and head out into the hall. You cast one last fleeting glance at the glorious man, love in your gaze, before walking up to your locker, which you somehow know despite never being told which one it is. As you swing your locker open and pull out your textbook, you close it and notice something going on down the hall. You gasp as you see Thanos being pinned against his locker by a lean, light brown-haired man donning a green shirt. There was fear apparent in his glistening purple orbs as he glared down at him, along with two brown, black-spotted dogs standing beside him and snarling threateningly.  
“Stop this, you fiend!” A booming voice that seemed to echo called down the hallway. You turn to see him again, your savior.  
The rabbit walked up to the two, a threatening glisten in his glare as he said, “This can go one of two ways, pal. One, you walk away… Two, I walk on your face.” The man holding Thanos against his locker loosened his grip, Thanos quickly escaping his grasp. The man almost seemed to be trembling from fear before he shouted, “Like, z-zoinks, Scoob! Let’s get out of here!” and dashed away down the hallway, his two cronies trailing behind him.  
“Thank you, Chungus,” Thanos told him thankfully. The rabbit nodded, and glanced at you with a smile. You had tears in the corners of your orbs as he went back into the classroom, and you felt your heart pounding. You couldn’t believe it; Chungus saved your best friend. That only made you love him more.  
You headed back into the classroom, gazing off into the distance dreamily and tripping over someone’s foot. You look up and see an extremely muscular hippopotamus, looking down at you with a mocking glint in his dark brown orbs.

“Haha,” he laughs. “Clumsy nerd!”

Your face flushes bright red in embarrassment as you clumsily pick yourself up. ‘Darn my clumsiness!’ You think. “Yeah, well, you’re uh- um, stupid! Yeah!”

He smirks. “Great comeback.”

“Thanks!”

“I- what? That was sarcastic…”

“...Sarcastic?”

The hippocampus shakes his head and ignores you. You continue to go to back to your seat. 

You look up as Chungus enters the classroom. He carelessly tosses his textbook on his desk and sits down, gazing off at the window with a forlorn expression on his attractive face. Rain suddenly starts pouring, you don’t question it, instead focusing on your lover’s handsome face. 

You forcibly scoot your desk over to him (across the room). There’s now a row of three desks lined up together. “Um, hi. I just wanted to let you know that… what you did out there? It was really brave and I appreciate you standing up to him.”

He doesn’t spare you a glance, but says something to acknowledge your presence. “It was nothing.”

Your heart flutters and your cheeks light up. Imagine how often he must do this kind of thing for it to be regular for him! He’s so… so strong!

There’s a loud ‘ahem’ from the front of the class as Mr. Undertale stands up and a text box appears over his head, ‘Hey kids, do you find bone puns..’ He pulls off his arm, ‘Humerus?’ There’s a long, awkward silence as everyone stares at the teacher, who proceeds to put his arm back on.

‘Okay, guess that joke didn’t go over great,’ The next text box says, ‘Whatever. Well, class is starting now, so open up your textbooks to page 420 and we’ll start on our human anatomy lesson.’

You almost immediately start zoning out, your focus wandering from the text boxes at the front of the classroom and over to Chungus. You notice he looks confused and slightly frustrated, staring down at his papers as if he has no idea what he’s doing.

“Hey,” you say softly, your violet orbs delicately twinkling as you gaze intently at him.

He ignores you.

“Hey,” you say again, this time plangently, making sure he’s paying attention this time.

He turns to face you. “What is it? I’m trying to learn!”

“It’s okay, I just noticed that you’re struggling a bit, understandably, and, uh,” you stutter a bit, overwhelmed at what you’re about to do, “I was, um, wondering if you’d want me to tutor you after classes end today? I’m like, really good at science stuff…” you finish, twirling a strand of your plain, tortilla brown hair around your finger as you stare at him.

He looks a bit surprised, as his eyes widen slightly before he replies, “..Wait, really? Oh, thank God, you can probably help me learn long division then!” 

You raise your eyebrow a little, then reply in a somewhat bewildered tone, “...This is... biology…”

He stares at you. You curse yourself, feeling embarrassed for pointing out something so obvious. Chungus, however, is unperturbed. “Oh, that must be my problem!” He glances towards Mr. Undertale, and squints slightly as he reads the text. “No, I just don’t know what tilden means.”

“...You mean tendon?” You ask, raising your eyebrow a little higher than before.

“Yeah, that thing.”

You shake your head, smiling blissfully. This will be the perfect opportunity to bond with your future husband.

“Eh-eh-eh-eh-eh!” Mr. Undertale is talking louder now, but you assume he’s just teaching and ignore him in favor of staring deeply into Chungus’ sparkling black orbs.

“Um… what’s your name?” He asks, turning back from the text boxes to look at you.

“Reader,” you say dreamily, your gaze locked with his.

“That’s… you know what, whatever. Reader, I think Mr. Undertale is talking to you.”

You glance towards the front of the room. You immediately notice one of Mr. Undertale’s eyes is glowing. You glance at the text box above his head, but the old text vanishes before you have time to read it.

The new text says, ‘Turn around, Reader Minecraft.’ 

You vaguely think of how much you despise your evil, abusive father’s surname, but the dread of what is behind you fills you more than your hatred for your father. You slowly rotate in your seat to see a large, floating skull in the air behind you, staring right at you. You feel frozen with fear, however you manage to turn your head slightly to look at Mr. Undertale.

‘Kiddo, I said turn around.’ The next text box says. 

A weird tune starts to play, sounding kind of like the music during those fight scenes in movies, or video games. Your stomach drops.

“Sir,” Thanos begins weakly. “I… I think violence is against school rules.”

‘No it isn’t, you should see what Mr. Lingo does to his students.’ The newest textbox above his head reads, however you notice that the looming presence behind you has disappeared and his previously glowing eye is back to normal.

‘But, y’know, I’m not as good at covering up crime scenes as him.’ He shrugs, but gives you one last semi-threatening look before getting back to teaching the lesson.

“He’s joking, right?” You ask Chungus halfheartedly.

“He has to be, people can’t murder other people, it’s illegal,” He points out.

You nod, sure that Chungus’ logic is sound. Either way, you’re not entirely sure if you want to know.

—

The day passes. Sadly, Chungus isn’t in as many of your classes as you’d like. (Only five!) You agreed to meet him in the library after school to tutor him.

You enter the library slowly, glancing around and looking for him. Chungus is sitting at a table, staring absentmindedly at a book. You straighten out your clothes and take a deep breath.

“I’ve got this,” You whisper to yourself. “It’s just a tutoring session. That’s all.”

But your heart yearns for more. First you study together, then you’re friends, and who knows? Maybe—

“Reader?” Chungus asks, and you realize that he’s already noticed you’re here.

“Oh, er, uh, hello!” You stammer, your face reddening slightly with embarrassment. “Should we— do you want to start with science or math?”

Chungus pauses for a moment, thinking before asking, “..which of those subjects is long division a part of again?” 

“Math,” You reply with an amused snort.

“Okay, that one then.”

You take a seat at Chungus’ table and see he brought his biology textbook. No matter! You pull out your math textbook and open it. You quickly realize that you defaced school property and wrote Reader + Chungus inside a heart on today’s lesson. Your face flares red, but it’s too late to close it.

You see Chungus looking down at the heart, and with a small smile, he turns to you and says, “Awww, you see me as a friend? That’s so nice!” as he opens up his math notebook.

You breathe a sigh of relief quietly. “Yeah! F-friends! We are friends, right?”

“Of course!”

Step One: Tutoring. Check.  
Step Two: Friends. Check.  
Step Three: Dating. Well… That one’s a work in progress.

“...So, how do you do long division?”

“Alright, let me show you. Let’s say the number is… 2,134. You take the first two digits, yeah?”

“Okay, two, and three.”

“What? No. Two and one.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you— nevermind. Okay, so then you take those, and make them longer.”

“What? Like this?” He writes a really big ‘21’ on his paper.

“No, silly! Like this.” You write ‘221.’  
“Since you have two twos, because two, and one one, because one. And then you divide the number of digits by two, and you get 1,067. Do you understand?”

He stares at the paper you’re showing your work on. “...Yes? I think?”

“Great!” Internally, you laugh maniacally. If he doesn’t know long division, he’ll keep coming back for more tutoring sessions. If he keeps meeting up with you, you’ll bond. And then… step three! You smile a bit too wide to be normal. He doesn’t notice. 

“Reader, do you like math?” Chungus asks conversationally, glancing up to meet your orbs with his.

You have an idea. You sigh dramatically, resting your head on your hand. “No, not really. But it doesn’t matter, because the only number I care about is yours!” Genius!

He stares at you. “Like… phone?”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“Reader, I don’t have a phone.”

“O-oh. Not… not even a home phone?”

“My mom cut the cord after merchandisers started calling every five minutes. Plus, I live in a hole in the ground. But that was a good pun, though!”

It wasn’t a pun!!! “Thanks,” you say weakly.

“I snesnse studente in liberar,” An echo-y voice says from across the room, infinitely loud yet infinitely quiet at the same time. You can feel the fabric of reality ripping as you spot a disembodied head floating your way.

“Uhhhhhhh I’ll-I’ll see you t-tomorrow, Chungus,” You stammer, your voice becoming much quieter than usual in this feeling of immense terror that’s being induced by this creature.

“Studentes are notobe heer aftear shool howers,” It says as you rush out of the library, barely having grabbed your backpack and textbook. “They will come for you. They are cmong.”

You run quickly to the front of the school. You spot your father’s car. He’s sitting in it, his head in his hands. You calculate all of the ways he could try to kill you, and determine that he couldn’t without risking his own life. At least if you get in the back seat.

“Reader, why did you take so long? I was so worried,” he said, obviously because I ruined his plans to kill me at car line.

“Oh my God, dad, are you being serious right now? I was tutoring Chungus, you should know this,” You bark back, glaring at him with your sharp violet orbs. He pauses before replying.

“Wait, who’s Chungus? And you never told me you were staying after school!” He says sharply, though behind his irritated voice there’s clear concern in his blocky blue orbs. 

“My future boyfriend, obviously! Ugh!” You roll your eyes and hop out of the car while it’s still moving, causing you to trip and fall on your face. You immediately get up and turn to the car with an accusatory glare. “I knew you were trying to kill me!”

“Are you okay, honey?! I would never try to kill you!” He gets out of his car like he is going to help you, but he’s obviously going to try and finish you off. He says something else, but you can’t hear him as you’re already sashaying to your house.

\-- TIME SKIP TO WHEN YOU GET HOME --

You swing open the door, and see your evil father sitting on the couch. He gets up and starts to say, “Hey, are you oka-” but you cut him off by shoving him away as he walks up to you, storming up your room. You collapse onto your bed, glowering up at the ceiling.

“Ugh, my dad is so stupid and evil!” You grumble, crossing your arms. You figure it’ll be best for you to just sleep, at least you want to until you end up scrolling through Wattpad and finding a really nice looking Sword Art Online smut fanfic. You read it until around 4 in the morning, at which point you pass out.


	2. Chapter Two

You wake up at the crack of dawn, your alarm sounding off to the right of your ear. You shut it off and stare up at the ceiling for a few moments, lost in thought. I should finish that fan fiction after school today, you think to yourself.

Soft orange light filters through the blinds, illuminating your room with a tangerine glow. You glance at the clock. Ugh, I have to get up now, you think with a sigh. You get off your bed, quickly changing into the next day’s clothes: black short-shorts, and a baggy sweatshirt because you gotta keep warm, yknow? You think about putting your hair in a bun, but that’s a little too Nabisco©, and you’re not like other girls. You leave your room.

“Honey? How are you?” You shoot your father a piercing glare as you grabbed a gluten-free granola bar from the cabinet. You slip your backpack onto your back before leaving without a word. You glance back and see your father staring out of a window at you with a concerned expression.

You scoff. If he really cared, he would have followed me! He’s such a horrible father, I hate him. You turned and started sashaying down the street. You kept walking until you were at the bus stop and then you see him.

“Chungus!” You cry with tears of joy in her eyes. His rabbit ears perked up and he turns to you with a surprised look on his face.

“Reader? Since when do you live on my street?” He asks, confused. 

“I don’t know, maybe you’ve been going to a different bus stop or something,” You say with a shrug, “Or maybe it’s just a convenient plot point made up by one of the authors who couldn’t come up with an interesting plot for the second chapter.” 

Chungus squints at you. “Uh…. okay then?” He clearly has no idea what you’re talking about, and neither do you. It’s almost as if your actions were controlled by someone else. You shrug it off. “Why are you wearing a sweatshirt? It’s like eighty degrees out.”

“Aesthetic.”

“Oh. Hey, um, could you help me with math after school again today? I’m not sure I get it.”

You can’t help a small smirk from sliding onto your face, but you quickly turn it into a cute smile. “Of course!” Hahahahahahahah!!!!! My plan worked!!! He’s dependent on me for incorrect math help! “Just… not in the library…”

“That goes without saying, I think.”

You giggle, but Chungus wasn’t really joking, so he gives you an odd look. Luckily, the bus pulls up in time to save you from an awkward silence and the authors having to write more dialogue at a bus stop.

You climb onto the bus before Chungus. He’s so polite, letting me go first! There’s one seat left for two people, it’s as if it was meant to be, you and Chungus sitting next to each other and sharing a heartfelt— 

Moto Moto suddenly stands up out of nowhere and takes up one of the spots. You bristle with rage. “You’re not supposed to switch seats,” you inform him curtly.

The hippottery scoffs. “Since when?” He asks gruffly. 

“Um, since forever!” You exclaim, clenching your fists.

“Well clearly you’ve been on the wrong bus, then,” the hippopopopopo sneers.

“That would explain why I didn’t see you on the bus yesterday,” Chungus remarks.

“You’re so smart,” you gush.

“Uh, it’s just common—“

“Anyway, Moot Moot, what was wrong with your other seat?” 

“MOOT MOOT? It’s MO-TO MO-TO you dumbass piece of—“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever mooty, anyways, I don’t see what’s so wrong with sitting next to Barain over here.”

“Actually,” Barain pipes up quietly, “It’s Brian, not—“

“It’s literally bad luck Brian!” No-Toe Mo-Tow groans. “Why don’t you sit next to them?”

“Um, because I have to sit with Chungus, duh! I’m his tutor and best friend!”

“Yeah? Well I’m hot, and big, and chunky, unlike you, so I think Chungus should sit next to me.”

“I’ll just sit next to Brian! Jesus,” Chungus says, sacrificing himself for the greater good. You sigh dreamily at how noble he is, resolving a conflict by— wait, this means—

“And make me sit next to the nerd?” The hiphop shrieks in horror. “No way!”

“Would you shut up back there?” Bus Driver yells. Ironically enough, he is the bus driver. You grumble and sit down on the very edge of the seat, as far away from Motto Motto as possible.

You suffer the whole two minutes it takes you to get to school next to the hipopeepee. It’s intense psychological torture, or at least akin to it. The hippie is sitting and staring out the window, completely ignoring you, but it’s still absolutely, terribly awful in every way, shape, and form. The second the bus stops you leap out of your seat and head up to the front of the bus.

You’re the first off the bus, and you have the brilliant idea to hold the door open for everyone else. Then, Chungus will see how nice you are and fall in love with you!

You stand next to the door, holding it open. No one says thank you (how rude!) or even acknowledges you until Chungus is getting off. Your eyes gleam with excitement, but you’re disappointed when he just gives you a look of confusion.

“..Isn’t that door automatic?” He asks.

You laugh awkwardly. It is, isn’t it? “Um, it’s broken…”

“I see,” Chungus replies, nodding thoughtfully, “..thanks.” You feel your heart flutter. He just said ‘thanks’! You think to yourself, trying to stifle an excited squeal. So polite.

You head into the school. With a quick glance over your shoulder you see Bus Driver look at you, raise an eyebrow, and press a button to shut the doors. 

“S-s-s-s-s-s-s-so,” You stutter awkwardly, feeling your face heat up with embarrassment. “Um. What are you doing this weekend?”

“Uh, well, Moto Moto is throwing a party after the homecoming game and he invited me, so I’m probably gonna go to that.”

“Moto Moto?!” He’s trying to steal my man! “I mean, um, good for him! That’s cool!”

“Wait,” a strange Pokemon-human abomination says, “The homecoming game is this Friday?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“But it’s the first week!”

“And?”

“But— that’s not— god, this school is a complete mess in so many ways,” he said, hovering off while disappointedly shaking his head.

“It’s not bad!” Chungus objects. “I like Spanish class!”

“Oh, you take Spanish?” You ask curiously. You take french, but if you can transfere into Chungus’ class… Well, you’ll take any opportunity offered. A transfer request shou—

—TIMESKIP TO SPANISH CLASS, WHENEVER TJAT IS—

You enter Spanish class peppy and ready to sit next to Chungus. Your teacher, Mr. Lingo, stands up when you enter. “Class, this is Reader Mincefraft—“

“It’s Minecraft,” you correct.

“Sí, lo siento, Reaader Micneft,” Mr. Lingo says, sounding like Siri when she can’t pronounce a street name. “Your seat is next to Motoneurons over there—“

“Moto Moto,” Moto Moto correctas.

“Sï, Motor Trucko, that’s what I said.”

“Mr. Lingo, are you sure I can’t sit next to anyone else, like, literally anyone else I mean come on there’s open seats on both sides of Chungus—“

“Sį, i am sure. Sit next to Motor Oil.”

The Hypocrite bangs his head against his desk. Everyone nods sympathetically, except you, because the Hippocrates doesn’t deserve the sympathy and you know it more than anyone.

You trudge dramatically to your seat and sit down in it dramatically. You and the hippogryff glare at each other dramatically. You tear your gaze from Mooch mooch dramatically and dramatically stare at your one true love, Chungus, across the room dramatically. Mr. Lingo walks to the front of the room VERY un-dramatically.

“Okay, does everyone tengo their devoir?”

Everyone glances around. None of them know what devoir means, except you, because you took French for a grand total of yesterday. “Well I’m new, so no,” you say.

“Oh,” Chungus says, like the beautiful, smart, admirable, intelligent, funny, brave, courageous, comedic, awe-inspiring, beautiful, handsome, sexyyyy, hot, physically attractive, good-looking, attractive, hunky, gorgeous, time magazine’s hottest man alive, et cetera rabbit he is. “He means homework.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” the entire class except you and Chungus and Mr. Lingo and that bug over there on the wall says.

“Bzzzzz,” the bug over there on the wall says.

The rest of your class starts taking out their folders, but Mottled Mottowa just leans back in his chair. “Nah, I don’t j’ai my tarea.”

You would wonder how the hippoker knows how to conjugate I have in French (or how you do, given that you only took one day of French and that is not something taught in the first lesson) but you’re too busy being astounded by his disrespect to a teacher. 

Mr. Lingo puts his wings on the area where his hips would be, if he had them, but he’s a bird, so he doesn’t. “Your work ethic indicates you’ll have less of a life.”

“Whatever,” The hipopoopoo says.

Chungus shakes his head tiredly. You mimic his actions to make sure he knows you agree with him. Monotonous Motivation raises a non-existent eyebrow. 

You glare at him. Mr. Lingo grabs a marker and begins writing on the whiteboard. “Okay, today we’re going to be learning some basic conversational phrases. Can anyone tell me what this means?”

The word is ‘Hola.’ Nobody says anything. Mr. Lingo looks at you in exasperation. “Come on. It’s not that hard.”

Motley Motmot snickers. “Haha. Hard.”

Mr. Lingo glares at him with the fury of a thousand suns. He starts talking in rapid Spanish. None of you understand him. You make confused eye contact with Chungus across the classroom.

Motel motato looks intimidated as Mr. Lingo steps closer. “U-u-u-um, Mr. Lingo, are you... uh… bean?”

Mr. Lingo straightens and smiles creepily. “Estoy bien, sî. ¿Puedes traducir esto por mi, por favor?” He writes a sentence on the board and looks at More Motatoes expectantly.

“Uh,” Chungus says, his voice hoarse but like the sexy kind of hoarse, you know? Not the kind where it’s just gravelly and gross. Or the animal horse. Ew, imagine being attracted to an animal, right? Anyway, he continues to say, “I think he wants you to translate the sentence.”

Myototototototottigit says “But this is the second day of Spanish—“ Mr. Lingo glares at him and Mott’s Mapple Muice shuts up.

The person next to the hipposter silently hands him a Spanish to English dictionary. It takes a while and a lot of page flips, but eventually Motokyo Mapan starts to stutter out a sentence, “I-I-I-I-I-I-I- think it means ‘B-b-b-b-boys who don’t do homework die.”

“Incorrect. Niños can mean children and boys, and in this case it means children.”

Everyone glanced at each other nervously. “Well how was I supposed to know that?” the Hippopotalifragilisticexpialidocius snaps.

“Maybe if you had done the homework, you would know!” Mr. Lingo exclaims furiously. 

Chungus springs out of his seat and vaults over the table. You sigh happily. He’s just so dreamy. Imagine the strength it must take to jump over a table! “Let’s not get mad,” Chungus says gruffly, but like the sexy kind of gruffly, you know? “I’m sure Motato Motato has a good reason for not doing his homework. Right, Momato Momato?”

Malicious Motivation shrugs. “Not really.”

Mr. Lingo chirps furiously. You get the feeling that if he was an animal that could growl, he would be growling, but he’s a bird, and birds don’t growl. Then again, he can speak multiple languages and birds shouldn’t be able to speak any languages, so maybe he meant to chirp angrily. “Woah woah woah,” Chungus says, thrusting his arms out to push the student and teacher apart. You stare in amazement at the pure muscles that are on display by virtue of his arms being braced to stop them. It takes all your willpower not to— wait, no, you are, you’re drooling.

You quickly wipe at your mouth with your sleeve and blink back to reality, trying very hard not to ogle Chungus. While you were focused on his georgous muscles, you failed to notice that Chungus had started restraining Mr. Lingo from outright assaulting a student.

“Mr. Lingo!” You stand up courageously. Your chair falls back un-courageously and Mr. Lingo turns to look at you. So does Motonomowoc Musically, your one true love Chungus, that fly over there on the wall, and the rest of your class who at this point could be a hive mind and you wouldn’t even notice because I haven’t— I mean one hasn’t even named any other character. You stick your chin up courageously, being courageous in the face of adversity (people looking at you funny). “Mr. Lingo, if you don’t stop, I’ll— Um— I’ll report you to school HR? Yeah!” You exclaim courageously, putting your hands on your hips courageously.

“Multa, me detendré. ¡Pero esta no es la última vez que me has visto!”  
(Fine, I’ll stop. But this isn’t the last you’ve seen of me!)  
Mr. Lingo exclaims coura— I mean viciously, before storming out of the room.

You and your classmates look at each other in confusion. “Wow,” Chungus says admiringly. He’s looking at you, and your heart skips a beat and you feel bottlerflies in your stomach, but it’s okay, you’ll just digest them. “You stopped him, Reader.”

You blush bright red. Motiddy Mmm looks at you, holding back an amused smile because you look like a tomato. You would glare at him, but you’re so focused on your future husband that you don’t realize Motolicous Definition Make Them Boys Go Crazy is laughing at you. “It was nothing.” 

“Is anyone going to point out that she threatened him with going to school HR, which doesn’t exist?” The fly on the wall says.

Some new kids are astounded that a fly just talked, but most of the students are unphased. After all, the teacher that just stormed out of the room is literally a bird that can talk. Standing in the middle of the room are a rabbit and a hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia who can also talk, walk, and apparently get into and break up fights respectively. It’s like they’re in some weird book two teenage girls are writing or something.

“Shut up,” you retort, blushing more, if that’s even possible at this point. “It worked, didn’t it?”

The class (including Magnanimous Morning) nods and hums, agreeing. “It sure did,” Chungus says, beaming. You blush more. Your stomach gurgles as it digests the bottlerflies. 

“So like,” you begin slowly. “Can we just… leave?”

Chungus shrugs. “I dunno.”

“I’m pretty sure once the teacher’s gone for fifteen minutes we’re legally allowed to leave,” Mogical Motropolis chimes in, “I mean, who’s gonna stop us, the fly?”

“Why don’t we just leave now, then?” Chungus asks huskily, but like the sexy kind of huskily, you know? “If nobody’s stopping us.”

You sigh dreamily. He’s so bold, daring, courageous, brave, unwavering, handsome, courageous, solid, strong, unmoveable, determined, a rock, an unstoppable force AND an immovable object. You could write sonnets about his virtues, but you suck at English, so… you won’t.

“Yeah,” you agree. You follow Chungus out of the room into the hallways and are immediately accosted by Hall Monitor asking why you’re leaving class without a pass.

“Uh, Mr. Lingo just kind of…. left so we figured it would be okay to,” Chungus explains like the resilient, determined, amazing—

“Oh,” Hall says. “Cool, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

You end your Spanish class end up going your separate ways, as you mentally start counting down the days until the homecoming game and party. Maybe you’ll be able to kiss Chungus!


End file.
